


And the Night? Well, She Makes a Fool of Me and Ruins Us (Dad!Lin-Manuel Mirada)

by RockWithItWriting



Category: Hamilton - Fandom, Lin-Manuel Miranda - Fandom
Genre: Dad!Lin, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-08-27
Packaged: 2018-09-20 23:35:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9521024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockWithItWriting/pseuds/RockWithItWriting
Summary: requested by anonymous: awesome! because i really would love a lin fic in which he’s like a super supportive almost like father figure to the reader who’s struggling with something difficult like depression or etc if you could please? thank you! love your writings so much!okay so i read the request and then sat down and wrote and then went back to the request to find out i totally kicked it away from me oh my god i’m sorry -eword count: 1456warnings: mention of abuse, homelessness, home invasion, depression





	1. Chapter 1

Lin-Manuel, or Dad as you called him, found you on the street in his teaching days. You were small, underfed, lost, uneducated. He took to the courts and, finally, you were his and he was yours. Lin raised you, reared you, and he taught you.

But that didn’t stop your memories, scrounging and running and escaping and getting mugged, from surfacing in your teenage years, the years that Lin was working and crafting and creating something that would change the world and mark him in the history books. You tried to remain yourself, the self that Lin helped craft with a gentle hand and some therapy and some love mixed in, but it was so hard.

It was hard, especially when your thumb traced the lines of your growth on Lin’s doorway, thinking about the text on your phone. Something about riding the subway, looking for inspiration about a dead white guy and hip hop and everything but you. And yeah, you knew that’s not how it was but that’s how it felt.

You felt alone. So, so alone. On the streets alone, no parents alone, scrounging for food and life alone. You felt so alone that your tears even left you alone and your grief left you alone and your friends left you alone.

Not that you had many of those in the first place.

But Lin was always your friend. Even on his bad days, days when he wasn’t sure he was going to make it, he put you first. Now, as you turned off your phone, rechecked that your backpack was packed and your homework was done, he was putting some dead racist, sexist white guy ahead of you. (Now, your therapist would say, are you sure that’s what he’s doing? But you hadn’t seen Theresa since your last birthday, when she came to congratulate you on not needing her anymore. Perhaps you did.) You knew you needed to sleep, a final was staring you in the face for the next day and you’d be nothing but useless if you didn’t get some sleep. Reaching to your nightstand, you palmed a melatonin chewable from the bottle and crunched on it while you did the math on how long you would sleep that night and guessed when Lin would get home.

Even with the melatonin, used for getting you to sleep, you were a light sleeper. A combination of abuse from your previous family and living on the street you needed to be able to get awake and get away and be strong and small and dangerous. When something went bump in the night your eyes opened, room spinning around you, as your heartbeat pounded in your ear.

Another bump, and your body tensed.

A curse, a shattering noise, and you were on your feet, silently moving toward your bedroom door. From the living you a shadow danced across your wall and you tried to remember whether or not you locked the front door in your trance of depression and self hatred and whether or not Lin would forget that he had a vase by the fireplace in order to knock it over.

When a strange, gruff voice whispered and another responded your body went into hyperdrive. It was not Lin, not any of his friends, and you had nothing to defend yourself in a bedroom that reflected your interest in books and musicals and theatre. (Something you had inherited from your inherited father.) You could open your window- no, because when you were twelve you tried to run and Theresa suggested making sure that your window didn’t open. So you had to go out, out into the stranger’s line of sight, and left.

What if they had locked the door?

Where was Lin?

Your blood ran cold with fear and anger, swirling together, at the thought of Lin being hurt by whoever was in your house. It was enough to make you feel the street anger again, the anger that kept you alive, the anger that made you impulsive.

Impulsive enough to dash out your door with an unplugged lamp in your hand, twisting to your right as your legs took you left, the lamp arcing from your hand and landing on the chest of the smaller man and the door opening as you scrambled and a raw scream left your throat. Would you make it to the elevator? The men were thundering behind you, towering over your small teenage frame, and you could smell the nicotine as if it clung to your own body.

They were close, too close, and when you threw open the heavy door to the stairs someone cursed. You had hit him- everything that Lin had taught you told you to take the stairs safely, going as quickly as you could, but your voice was raw from screaming and your legs were burning with tension, so you vaulted yourself over the landing until you reached the lobby of your apartment complex, heaving and panting and limping and screaming and crying and then you were on the street and you were back in a place you knew and the alley was cold but it was home and you could still see your initials etched into the wooden door of the back of the bar. It was night, or morning?, and it was raining but you were fitting your body into a whole that you had made and your hands were wrapped around yourself, as if that would hold you together while you tried to use the glue your therapist had given you during your sessions to keep your mind in tact.

As childish as it was, you wanted your dad. You wanted Lin, you wanted him to hold you and tell you it was okay, but Lin was God knows where and you had sprinted away from your home like a bat out of hell but you were in a place of familiarity, a place you had lived for years on your own with yourself. A place Lin promised you would never go back to as long as he lived.

The thought of being back in your hole with that promise in mind made you break, your tears deciding you had gone without them long enough. They came, full force, for hours. You huddled in on yourself, crying, and shivering until the rain stopped and soggy footsteps echoed down your alley. They were soft, just like the first time you heard them, and the smell of Burger King preceded them. You knew it was Lin but that didn’t stop your body from jolting like you went back in time when he crouched in front of you.

“Hey, kid,” Lin quoted himself, “You look hungry and cold. Got some nuggets with your name on them.” Just your eyes out of your body cocoon you reached out for the Burger King bag and then wrapped another around Lin’s wrist so he could tug you to your feet. “I’m so sorry.” He pressed his lips to the top of your head, “Ms. Sweeney called everything in. They got the guys and got a hold of me. I never should have left you alone…”

“I was so scared,” You confessed, leaning your face against his chest as the Burger King warmed the space between your bodies, “I didn’t know what to do, Dad. I thought they hurt you…” The tears bubbled in your eyes once again and Lin pulled you closer, swaying as he hummed.

“I know I’ve been away a lot recently, but I hit a breakthrough. I’m going to be home more, okay, kid? I’m going to stay home with you and I’m going to look after you. If you want to go see Theresa again, I’ll take you, but I’ve got a patrol car at the end of the street because we need to get you home, get you warm, and get your statement, okay? Tomorrow I’ll call you in and I’ll help you study for your final.” You looked up at Lin, surprised.

You had told him about the final, sure, but he was sitting at the piano with a pen behind his ear and ink stains on his hands and inspiration in his eyes. You didn’t know he had heard you, or listened, or remembered, but with the way Lin smiled at you and then wrapped his arm around you as he lead you to the patrol car at the end of the alley, you knew. Everything you had worried about, or been worrying about, was gone.

Lin was your anchor, your father, and he would protect you with everything he had. And you would never go back to how you would be as long as he lived.


	2. But The Day Shines On Our Soul And Brings Us Strength

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Second part of the request.

Oh, God, you were hungry. So, so hungry, and weak, and cold, and wet. It was raining in New York and the streets were flooding - you had heard an old couple passing by your hiding spot that there was a tropical storm coming and you shivered in fear. Of course, your luck had run out after nearing three years surviving on the street. There was bound to be something, a hurricane, a flood, a tropical storm, and that would be the end of you.

At least you had made it to ten years old, right?

From your spot in the alley you watched people come and go, nobody seeming nice enough for you to crawl your small, fragile body out and beg for a jacket, for warmth or food or anything. And you knew, of course you did, that the cafe across the street allowed people to buy double of their order, the cafe holding the order until someone like you came in. Frail, hungry, you pushed up off of the concret of the alley and wrapped your arms around yourself, scurrying across the street into the warmth of the cafe, shivering as you dripped rainwater all over the floor. “E-excuse me?” You, malnourished and young, could barely see over the tall counter to the barista. “Do you have any orders on hold? A-anything anyone’s already paid for?”  
  


The barista, a woman who looked stern and scared to be staring down a child covered in grime and rainwater and sweat and fear, cocked an eyebrow. She leaned over the counter, her face softening as she took in your shoelessness, the jeans that were too small for you and yet seemed to hang off of your frame, “I’m sorry, darlin’, we don’t have anything right now. Tomorrow’s Sunday; usually we get a lot of church goin’ folk in here and they donate. Can you wait until then, sugar?” Her voice was thick, accented, and you didn’t even try to work out where it came from. You nodded and crossed your arms, shifting from foot to foot. You were so, so hungry, and it hurt. Every inch of your body hurt and it ached and smarted and any other word that you could figure out, but you nodded. You nodded and you turned and headed back to the alley and crawled back into your hole and you hurt there, you hurt alone, you hurt for the childhood you were losing, the childhood you had lost, and the life you would never get to have. Hours passed and the sun set and the rain picked up but then he was there. Everything in your mind told you to push past him and run but he was holding food and the smell was so good and you looked at him and he looked nice, teacherly, and he was holding out the food to you, shaking it.

“Hey, kid. You look hungry and cold. Got some nuggets with your name on them.” You reached out and snatched them, relieved when he didn’t wrap his large hand around your arm and force you from your hiding space. “Go on, eat them. Can I- can I sit here with you?” You nodded, shoving a nugget in your mouth whole and chewing heavily. It was heaven in your mouth, warm and tasty and it was food- holy shit, was it food. “My name is Lin. I saw you in the cafe. That barista lied to you, you know.”

Moving onto your third nugget the only thing you could do through the warmth in your mouth was cocking your eyebrow. “I bought my meal and then three more when I was in there. These nuggets took the last of my spending cash for the week.” Guilt nagged at you, over the hunger and the hurt, and it showed on your face as your chewing slowed. “No, no!” Lin waved his hands around, “Eat, eat! It’s okay. I promise.” You held the food back out to him, fifth nugget in your hand and a question on your face. Lin gently pushed it back into your hands, softly smiling at you. You tried once more but received the same result.

Lin just watched you scarf down the six piece as if it would sate all of your hunger and after the box was empty he took it from you, his eyes smiling. It reached his eyes. Something about it made you feel safe but three years on the street and two years getting jumped and mugged and beat up for any money you’d managed to get made you think twice about his nice face. You’d heard the horror stories from other kids who’d been on the street longer than you and heard what nice looking guys did to nice looking kids like you. Thinking of the kids you had seen, or the shells of the kids you had seen under the flashes of police cameras, you shrunk back into yourself. But Lin didn’t say anything.

“This is going to sound weird, but I have more food at home. I’m walking, so you don’t have to get into a car with me and I won’t force you to come into my apartment and you can stay outside and I’ll bring out my tupperware of leftovers - I think it’s pizza - and utensils that way you can get more than a six piece nugget inside of you and maybe it’ll hold you down until that barista gives you food tomorrow.” Everything about that sounded safe so you nodded, pushing yourself up off the ground. In the process you clasped a large shard of glass and slipped it into your pocket, hand still holding tightly to it. If Lin pulled anything on you than you would be prepared and you could run and you wouldn’t be one of those shells underneath police flash bulbs. But Lin… Didn’t try to pull anything. He gave you space and told you which way to turn, always either in front of you or behind you but never close enough to reach out and touch you or grab you or anything you were afraid of.

Eventually, Lin, hands deep in his pockets, stopped in front of a large, brick building that was worn down like your spirit. “This is my building. You can stay out here- I’m sure the concierge has an umbrella that you could borrow. It’s coming down pretty hard out here.” You don’t know what made you do it - was it the glass shard in your hand or was it the thought of pizza and being dry and a warm place to rest your feet even if it was just for one meal? - but you opened your mouth and spoke to Lin.

“Can I come in too? I’m s-so cold.” Lin tried not to look happy or pleased with himself but you saw right through him. He was so happy - but was it because he was able to help?

“Of course.” Lin pressed himself into the wall of the elevator and let you leave first and told you the number of his apartment so you could walk first. He unlocked the door and entered, heading left to a kitchen. “Come on in, make yourself at home. Do you want your pizza heated?”  
  
“That sounds amazing.” You followed Lin to the kitchen where he piled four pieces of pizza onto a paper plate before putting into the microwave. You set your glass on the island and took a seat. It was when Lin didn’t even look surprised at the glass that you knew you were safe. In the days that followed, he didn’t try and take the glass but it was the first month you had stayed and not left and Lin asked to mark your height on his doorframe that you knew. You knew that Lin was going to be yours and you were going to be his. And it was when Lin came home with court papers and a proposition that was far more innocent than other men had propositioned you on the streets. And you cried and you cried and you threw away your glass and put the clothing he bought you in drawers and slept without the door being unlocked and you hugged Lin and you went to school - school!- and made friends and you did things you didn’t ever think you’d live to do and you grew and blossomed and soon you were thirteen you were fifteen and you were sixteen and men were breaking into your house but after Lin was there and Lin was always there for you and Lin was your dad but he wasn’t but he always would be your dad and you loved him like he was one half of your DNA.

And he loved you. Oh, God, sometimes you thought about that hole and you didn’t flinch because nothing mattered. Because Lin was there for you. And he loved you. And he cared for you.


End file.
